


Sunburn

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M, Naughtiness, Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'I was wondering if I could get a SFW Monkee one shot were the reader and Peter gets really bad sunburn and how the other guys react to it.'Mostly SFW with a little naughtiness at the end.





	Sunburn

“Ah…”

You wince as Micky gently puts a dollop of the aftersun on your pink skin, and Peter looks at you apologetically as Davy does the same to him.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Peter, it’s like you’ve never  _been_  to California…” he scolds, and Peter shrugs.

“I’m Scandinavian, a little. It apparently shows most in my skin, David,” he says, and you grin ruefully at him. “I feel like a lobster.”

“You look like one, Pete,” Mike says from the corner, reading his newspaper. “Goddamn idiots…”

“Hey, it’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Micky grins. “We can get you a part in the seaside episode of the show.” You push him gently, and he grabs your wrist. “You feel like overcooked bacon.”

“You know how to make a girl feel special,” you say. “I feel sick.”

“Heatstroke. Mike, could you get the girl some water?”

“No,” says Mike, folding up his paper and standing up, and as he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass, you sigh and then yelp in pain as Micky reaches an especially bad part of your neck. “That’ll teach you both to lie around outside in this weather, Jesus…”

“We fell asleep!”

“I’ll leave this bit for Peter…” Micky wisely chooses to simply gesture to your chest. “Uh, it’s in a kinda weird pattern…” You look down, and your eyes narrow. On your left breast, rising above your bikini, there’s four spikes, almost…

Davy raises his hand in front of his face, and rotates it slightly, before he bursts into helpless laughter, and Peter puts his hand – the offending hand – to his mouth as you realise that you’re going to have Peter Tork’s hand burned into the skin of your chest for a few days.

“Fell asleep, my ass,” Mike adds as he walks in, and you cover your face.


End file.
